I sent the boatman back
across the black waters.
not time, your name
not crossed off lists.
vague hints, threats
unanswered became
bets: called on
Game, the hands
are dealt and melt
back into felted
wool sweaters,
box tops, sock hops
dirndle skirts
and frocks.
You were hare
when I was fox
well fold this hystory
into a box
full of clocks
that run and spin
we'll make due
with Gin
much to
my chagrin.
its him I'm in
no use lying
when its you
I'm missing.
(I'm watching the clock, the fan whirs away in the distance of the room. My eyes are open starring endless at the ceiling, my thoughts revealing disaster, I cannot plaster them up in walls of tell-tale, mountains of shale and the seventh veil(I exhale)its you this typing is coming out from precious/the words.the herds.conferred with meaning: i extrapolate feeling while you're worlds away in the sinister gloom of the beepingclickingwhirring doom. Lets ride away my love on this hay-tied broom.)
can I get a witness
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